Part 13 (1/2)

In the meantime the archers of St. Barbara's Tower, lashed into activity by the orders and example of d.i.c.k Wyatt, had closed, barred, and bolted the great oaken door, and hastily arming themselves, ascended the tower, where they crouched, arrow on string, behind the low, battlemented parapet.

”Methinks 'tis all up with Southampton,” exclaimed the grizzled warrior. ”But lie close, and do not loose string till they find us out.”

”But what can we do?”

”Very little till the fog lifts. Then it will be seen, which of the towers still hold out.”

”Have they carried the Castle, think you?”

”Not if the garrison have had the least warning, and, thank Heaven, there's enough noise to waken the Seven Sleepers. Hearken!”

Above the noise of the still disembarking foreign soldiery could be heard pitiful screams and cries for mercy, as men, women, and children were cut down indiscriminately by the ruthless foe, while a distant clash of arms showed that in some quarters of the town the invaders were meeting with some amount of resistance.

As if by magic, the mist suddenly rolled away, and the pale October sun streamed down upon a sight that was but too common in those days.

Two score and ten galleys lay along the sea-front, their prows touching the sh.o.r.e just as the first high water was beginning to ebb, while in mid-stream fifty-five heavier vessels rode at anchor. From this powerful fleet close on twelve thousand Normans, Picards, Genoese, and Spaniards had landed.

Already the southern portion of the town, with the exception of St.

Barbara's and G.o.d's House Towers, was in their hands. Robert de la Barre, one of the bailiffs, held the Castle and the West Gate; Walter de Brakkeleye, the other, lay within Catchcold Tower; while through the Bar Gate poured a mob of terrified citizens, some of whom fled hot-foot even as far as Winchester.

Having made sure of the lower part of the town, the invaders began their accustomed excesses, plundering and burning in all directions.

A strong body of Genoese could be seen coming down the road that followed the inner side of the South Wall.

”Stand fast, if ye would see to-morrow's sun!” cried the old man-at-arms warningly. ”And do not give any sign till they discover us: then an arrow for each black heart!”

On the opposite side of the street, which, for military reasons, was wider than those away from the walls, was a house of superior quality to its neighbours. It was a two-storeyed, half-timbered building, standing in a large extent of ground. Attracted by its more imposing appearance, three of the marauders stopped and began to batter on the outer gate with their short, heavy axes.

”'Tis the house of Sir Reginald Scarsdale,” quoth one of the archers, a Southampton man. ”'Tis out of the frying-pan into the fire, I trow, with him.”

”What dost thou mean?” asked Raymond.

”Why, this: twice his castle in the county of Yorks hath been burned by the Scots; so, to keep his womenfolk out of harm's way, he sends them down here, while he keeps watch and ward at Berwick.”

”His womenfolk?”

”Ay! His wife, the Lady Hilda, and his daughter, the Lady Audrey.

Pray Heaven they be not in the house!”

”But they are!” exclaimed another. ”I heard from one of their servants but a few hours back that the old lady was seized with an ague. And the younger, a sweet little la.s.s, left to the mercies of those wretches! Alas! And we can do nothing!”

Raymond's only reply was to compress his lips tightly and clutch the hilt of his short sword. Carefully he peered over the edge of the parapet, and looked down on the scene below.

Already the gate was giving way before the l.u.s.ty blows of the axes.

Then, throwing his ponderous body against the shattered woodwork, a burly Genoese burst the remaining fragments with a resounding crash, and, with wild shouts of triumph, the three plunderers rushed across the grounds and attacked the door of the house, while the screams of terrified women rent the air.

Without a moment's hesitation Raymond seized a coil of rope which was used for hauling up materials to the top of the tower, and hastily knotted one end round his body. He looked down. The street was now clear of any wandering soldiers. Taking his bow and quiver, as well as his sword, the youth persuaded his comrades to lower him with all despatch.

Round and round he spun in his hazardous descent, till, with bleeding hands and a swimming sensation in his head, Raymond found himself on the ground. Instantly he unloosed the rope, darted quickly across the road and gained the outer gateway.